


Dancing Around a Minefield

by maychorian



Series: Voltron: Legendary Cuddlers [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Phobias, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 19:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12239388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maychorian/pseuds/maychorian
Summary: Lance and Keith are searching a Galra lab together when an unexpected phobia rears its head.





	Dancing Around a Minefield

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VelkynKarma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelkynKarma/gifts).



> For a prompt exchange with VelkynKarma! Her prompt was Keith and Lance, Keith being hit with a phobia during a mission and Lance getting him through it. Took me a while to come up with the right one, but I'm pleased with the result. Hope you enjoy! And you should definitely read her fic, too.

Lance really hoped they didn't find Shiro in this creepy lab. Not because he didn't want to find Shiro. Ever since they had figured out that the "Shiro" who came back to them in the Galra fighter was a clone, they'd been on a mad tear through the universe looking for the original, the real Shiro, their leader, the true Black Paladin. The person Keith thought of as family to the exclusion of pretty much everyone else he had ever met. 

Lance definitely wanted to find that Shiro. He wanted him back almost as desperately as Keith did. But he didn't want to find him here.

If they found him here, that would mean that Shiro had been captured again, used, tortured, experimented on. Lance wasn't a scientist, but he had a vague idea of the uses of the various equipment and machinery they were passing by, stacked on every table and crammed into every inch of available space. He didn’t want to know more.

He saw things that looked like scalpels, bonesaws, alien in design but not far enough away that he couldn't guess their function. He saw vials and beakers of liquids in disgusting, toxic-looking colors. He saw drips and smears of what had to be blood in a variety of colors, including the dull rust of what could be dried human blood, though their species couldn't possibly be the only one in the universe that had blood based on iron exchange, right? Other species had to have red blood, too, didn't they? This wasn't necessarily Shiro's. It probably wasn't.

Yeah. That was the ticket. Just keep thinking of all the reasons that Shiro wasn't here. That was the only way Lance was going to get through this particular wild goose chase.

Judging by how pale and quiet Keith was, he was having similar thoughts. He had gone silent as soon as they started searching this laboratory floor, and it only got deeper the farther they went. Lance kept glancing at him in concern, but for once, he had the wisdom to keep his big mouth shut. He didn't think any attempt at levity would go down well, and he couldn't come up with anything encouraging or comforting to say, either. 

If Hunk was here, he would know what to say to make Keith feel better. Pidge would probably rattle off facts and conjectures about what all the technology was for and would at least be distracting. Allura would be a calm and steady presence, decisive steadiness giving Keith an anchor to latch onto. And Coran would have managed to help the guy out with his peculiar brand of folksy charm and weird-uncle knowledge-vomit. Lance, though. Lance had nothing.

With relief, Lance looked at the floor plan on his wrist display and saw that they were approaching the last room. After checking this one, they would be done. No more need to hang around in this quiet, disturbing place silently listing off reasons that Shiro wasn't here. They would know for sure, one way or the other.

Lance waved a hand to get Keith's attention and pointed to the door, drawing him away from his distracted staring at a tray of surgical instruments on a table. "Hey, man, last room is right this way. We're almost done."

Keith sucked in a breath, then nodded shakily and followed Lance into the room. Lance stepped in front, looking around and trying to take in the whole place at once. The sooner he got Keith out of here, the better. No Shiro, at least at first glance. Just more equipment, more useless stuff. Lance blew out a breath in relief, though Keith’s tension did not ease in the slightest.

A computer console in the corner of the room drew Lance's eye, and he headed over to it and started poking at the keyboard. He was pretty sure Pidge had already pulled the databanks on this ship, but he would have to ask her if she needed to check this console out for herself. He didn't have any equipment for hacking it himself, and he couldn't read the Galra characters that popped up on the screen, but the flashing signal that sprang up when he hit the buttons was pretty much universal for "Nope, that's not the right password."

Keith rattled around on the other side of the room, picking up jars and putting them down. Lance didn't pay much attention until there was a sudden loud clatter of something landing on the floor, innumerable objects falling, and Keith yelped in surprise. Lance whipped away from the console to see what had happened and found Keith frozen by a cabinet, staring down in horror at what he'd dropped on the floor. It was a jar full of needles, some naked points of metal and some syringes with caps, scattered across the floor like a little minefield.

Lance blew out a breath and slumped a little. "Holy Kaltenecker, man, don't scare me like that. The way you squealed made me think that something really bad had happened."

Slowly, Keith raised his head and stared across the room at Lance. There was something weird about it, how stiffly he moved, how wide his eyes were. Lance frowned and tilted his head, trying to understand. Keith was still panting, mouth open in shock, and he didn't seem to be looking _at_ Lance so much as _through_ him.

"Um..." The hairs on the back of Lance's neck lifted, and he looked behind himself in case Keith had caught something he missed. Nope, nothing there, but Keith was still staring him, wide-eyed and pale. His breath came hard, too, and his face...

"Is there a ghost in here?" Lance asked, voice rising. "Seriously, man, tell me right now, did you see a ghost? You look so freaked out you're starting to freak me out, too."

The air kicked on in a corner vent, and Lance jumped with a shriek of terror, leaping back and staring up at the corner until he realized what it was. After a tense second, he relaxed and swiped at his forehead, then turned to Keith and pointed up at the offending vent. "You see what you did to me? You're damaging my calm, man!"

Keith wasn't looking at him, though. He was staring at the needles on the floor again. It occurred to Lance that he hadn't moved since the jar fell. Not so much as a twitch. He was just standing there, staring. Panicking.

Something heavy landed in Lance's chest. He knew what panic looked like. If he didn't see it on Hunk's face often enough, he certainly felt himself. This was the first time he'd seen Keith looking like this, though. Was it...something about the needles?

"Hey..." Lance lowered his voice and stepped closer, sidling around the pile on the floor. He kept his hands out at waist height where Keith could see them, though Keith wasn't looking at him. Like, at all. "Keith. My dude. Are you okay?"

Keith wavered where he stood, a shiver of movement like his muscles were getting exhausted from standing so rigidly. He stared through the mess on the floor, face still blank with terror, breath sounding harshly in the room. At Lance's question, he clamped his lips shut for a moment, holding his breath. Then he shook his head, hard, once. He still stared at the needles without blinking.

"Okay," Lance said, careful and soothing. "You really are freaked out, huh?"

Keith squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and a high whining sound came out of his mouth. He sounded like a dog terrified of thunder, hiding in a corner and whimpering everytime the storm rumbled and cracked.

"All right. I gotcha." Lance moved closer and stretched out one hand. "I'm gonna touch your arm, okay? Here I come. I'm gonna touch down...now."

Even with the warning, Keith started at the contact, though he didn't pull away. He turned his head to stare at Lance, eyes wide and awful. Lance gave him a strained smile. "Is this about Shiro? Or you got a phobia? Needles, or something medical related?"

Keith's breath hitched, but he jerked out a nod. "Needles." His voice was so shot and rough that Lance could barely hear him.

"Okay. You're gonna tell me why later, but it's not important right now." Lance slowly, gently brought his other hand over to grip Keith's arm, too. "I'm gonna lead you away from the mess now, okay? Just keep your eyes on me. Don't look down. I'll tell you where to step so you won't touch them. I'm gonna get you out of this, I promise. You trust me?"

Keith stared at him, panting. He nodded, eyes not leaving Lance's face.

Lance smiled gently. "Good job. Okay, take a step to your left, okay? Just follow me." He moved to suit his words, keeping Keith's face centered in his vision. Keith moved, one step, hesitant and wavering. But he did it. He followed Lance's lead.

Lance's smile broadened. "Okay, you got it. Great. Now another step. Same direction. Keep looking at me."

Another step brought Keith closer to Lance's orbit. His free hand darted out and latched onto Lance's shoulder. Lance twitched a bit, startled by the sudden contact, but he grinned for him.

"We dancing, now? I've got your hand, you've got my shoulder? This is a classic dance position, my man. And I'm leading."

"That's okay," Keith said, breathless.

"Ah, right, you're following my lead for once," Lance said, gently mocking. "No prob, I got this. Step toward me, okay?" He stepped backward, knowing that they were well clear of the needles now. Keith followed, moving more confidently since Lance had kept him safe so far.

"Another step." Lance backward, Keith forward. "Another one. Great, great, you're doing great."

They kept going, step by painful step. If it was a dance, it was ridiculously slow and sluggish. Still, Lance was pleased with Keith's trust in him. They could do this.

"Okay, now we're going to pivot toward the door, okay? Keep following my lead." Lance put his hand on Keith's waist and swung him around, slowly, deliberately, making sure that he never looked toward the needles.

"Aaaaaannd... We got it. There's the door." Lance stepped through the door, and Keith followed. 

Still, Keith didn't fully relax until the door automatically shut and they were in the hallway leading toward the elevator. As soon as they were totally, completely safe from the evil lab rooms and the needles spilled on the floor, the color flooded back into Keith's face, and he let go of Lance shoulder and ripped his arm out of his grip. He turned away for a moment, head down, breathing hard.

Lance stood still, not speaking, not moving, giving him time to compose himself. After a solid couple of minutes, he took a half-step closer. Still, he didn't reach out to grab Keith's shoulder or anything, though he badly wanted to. "Talking now?" he asked.

Keith shook his head.

"Okay. No problem. Can we head back to the group?"

The others had been speaking in the helmets for a minute or so, trying to get hold of them, asking if they'd found anything. They didn't sound worried, so Lance hadn't bothered to respond yet. At the question, Keith lifted his head with a jolt, as if he had just remembered that they were on a mission. He turned around, cheeks flaming red, and gave Lance a nod. His teeth were gritted, but he forced out a few words. "Yeah. Let's go back."

"You want me to give the others our sit rep?" Normally it would be Keith reporting to the group, but Lance figured he might not want to risk talking much right now.

Keith's lips pressed together, but he nodded.

Lance turned around and led the way toward the elevator. He activated his microphone so the others could hear him. "Hey, Keith and I are on our way back. Didn't find anything except a bunch of empty laboratories. They looked dirty, recently used. Whoever bugged out didn't bother cleaning up, so either it wasn't important or they didn't have time. No sign of Shiro. There's a console down there that might be separate from the main database, if you wanna check that out, Pidge."

"Yeah, I'll do that once we finish searching the rest of the base," Pidge said. "Thanks for the heads up. Are you sure you guys are okay? It took you longer than usual to check in."

Lance glanced back at Keith, who gave him a short head shake. "Nah, we're fine. Slight mishap we had to deal with, that's why we didn't respond right away, but me and Keith are both whole and hearty, no worries."

"That's good," Allura said, relief in her voice. "The rest of us are finishing up too. We should all be at the main hangar on schedule, and we can decide what to do after that." The others agreed.

Normally it would be Keith making the big picture statements, but Allura stepped in naturally, filling the gaps. Keith’s continued silence might be making the others suspicious, though. Lance glanced back at him and gave him an eyebrow waggle. Keith's forehead wrinkled. Lance sighed and muted his mic. "Check in with them, dude. They need to hear your voice. It doesn't have to be a huge long thing, just a couple of sentences to let them know you’re okay."

Keith grimaced, then cued his mic. "Sounds great. Good job, everyone."

His voice was strained, but that was normal after another mission with no Shiro in sight. The others likely wouldn't notice a difference. Lance nodded in approval and led the way into the elevator, then hit the button for the floor with the main hangar. Keith stood stiffly beside him, arms at his sides.

"We should talk about this later," Lance said. "If it might come up on other missions, everyone needs to know so we can be aware and help you out. No one will judge you, I promise. We all have hang-ups and weird quirks. It's not a big deal."

Keith closed his eyes for a long moment, taking this in. Then he opened his eyes, half-lidded, resigned, and gave Lance a slow, careful nod. "I...I'll take that under advisement."

Lance continued to watch his face. _I'll take that under advisement_ was not the same as _I will._ Keith had learned how to speak in vague leader-ish talk. Lance seemed to remember Shiro making noises like that, too, whenever anyone brought up his very obvious issues. They were both too good at hiding and deflecting, whether because they saw their own problems as weakness or they didn't want to bring the team down or whatever.

Lance's lips twisted. He couldn't force Keith, but he also couldn’t let this go. It was potentially a serious problem, and they needed to deal with it _somehow._ "Will you at least tell me? Please?" 

He tilted his head, widened his eyes, and stuck his bottom lip out. Not enough to be annoying, just enough to be wheedling. After a lifetime spent with tons of older siblings and parents and uncles and aunts who all needed to be persuaded now and then by cute little Lancey Lance, he had a lot of practice bringing out just the right expression to get what he wanted.

Keith tried to hold tough, but after a moment he visibly melted and blew out a breath. "Okay. I will. When we get back."

"You promise?"

Keith waved a hand and looked away. "Yeah, yeah. I promise."

Satisfied, Lance stood straight and smiled at the door. Chalk up another win for the Sharpshooter, slayer of ladies and authority-figure hearts alike. With enough practice on Keith, maybe he could even make this work on Shiro someday.

They just had to get him back first. If they could get him back.

No, he couldn't think like that. It was a good thing they hadn't found Shiro here. A good thing.

In the post-mission debrief with the others, Keith was mostly quiet, letting everyone else talk, but he contributed here and there. He was less shaky, already finding his footing again. Keith was resilient. Lance guessed he’d had to be, considering. It was still surprising to Lance to learn just how brittle that resiliency could be. Just how easy to break. 

He hadn't been lying when he told Keith that no one would judge him for having a phobia. Okay, he didn't know if Alteans had phobias or anything like that, but they would probably put it down to another weird thing about humans. Hunk would have no problem understanding it, for sure, and obviously Lance didn't either. Pidge was more of a wild card, but Lance was willing to bet she just wouldn't care as long as there was a workaround to deal with it. She was almost as mission-focused as Keith and Allura, most of the time.

And Shiro, if he were here... Maybe he already knew about it. If not, he would still be understanding. He froze up sometimes too, as Keith well knew, since he was usually the one to snap him out of it. So yeah, Lance didn't get why Keith didn't want to discuss this with the group. 

Once they got back to the castle and got cleaned up and had a meal, Lance started giving Keith significant looks. Keith kept glancing away as soon as their eyes met, but Lance knew he'd caught them. After the fifth fixed stare and determined eyebrow waggle, Keith finally stood up from the table where they'd been having a post-dinner chat. "I'm gonna go...train with gladiator. Lance, will you spot for me?"

Lance nodded readily and stood, wiping his mouth on a napkin. Since Keith had a tendency to severely overtrain when stressed, they'd set up a mandatory buddy system, not just for him but for everyone. No one was supposed to be on the training deck alone, and if things got out of hand the spotter was supposed to call a halt to the simulation before anyone got hurt.

Lance wasn't surprised when Keith didn't lead the way to the training deck, though, but to one of the unused lounges on the residential level. There were lots of unused rooms on this ship, and if Lance thought about it too much he got depressed, but it was handy for situations like this. Good spots for private conversations were basically everywhere.

Once they got to the lounge Keith had in mind, though, Lance had a thought and halted in place, holding up one finger. "Hold up. I'll be right back, okay? Find a good place to hang out." He waved toward the seating at the back of the room.

Keith frowned and shifted from foot to foot. "Where are you going?" 

"Just to my room. Gotta grab something. It'll only be a minute, I promise."

Keith wrinkled his nose, then sighed and nodded. Lance raced off to his room. He returned as promised just a couple minutes later, a little out of breath, holding the object he'd sought in his right hand. Keith, sitting stiffly on a couch in the back of the room, sat up straighter and met his eyes.

Lance gave him a grin and hustled over. He looked around the spot Keith had chosen. That thing like an Altean coffee table, other chairs and couches, perfect. He dragged over a coffee table in front of Keith, then another chair across from him and plopped down.

Keith stared at him. "What did you have to get?"

Lance bent over and set the homemade deck of cards he'd fetched from his room on the coffee table. "I thought we could play while we talk. Something simple, like War. So if the others run into us we can just tell 'em we're hanging out and playing games, not having a weird heart-to-heart."

That was part of his reason for the fetching the cards, but also, Lance knew Keith, at least some things about him. It was easier for Keith to talk when he had something to do with his hands, when he didn't have to look his conversation partner in the eye and try figure out their body language. A lot of people were like that, Lance knew, but especially Keith. The guy just wasn’t good at people.

Lance didn't know how many serious conversations he'd had with his parents while riding in the car or doing the dishes. Same principle. Something else to look at, something else to do, a slight distraction to take the pressure off the conversation. This wasn't a therapy session or a consultation between co-workers. It was two buddies hanging out and talking.

So Lance shuffled the cards and dealt them, and they started playing War. Easy game. Simple. Childish. Keith usually didn't like this game because it didn't really have a point. There was no skill involved, just luck. But he didn't complain this time. They flipped their cards, the winner took both, and when they matched, they flipped more. Easiest card game in the world, and Lance could see Keith relaxing in the little glances he stole at him, shoulders falling down, face going slack.

Lance didn't say anything beyond, "I got that one," or "Take 'em, those are yours." He didn't ask any questions. He didn't bring up the incident in the labs. Keith knew why they were here.

Lance flipped a Jack, and Keith flipped a seven. Lance took the cards, and Keith started to talk. No build-up, no hemming and hawing. He just started talking.

"When my dad died and I got taken into the foster system, there was a physical. It shouldn't have been a big deal. Just a formality."

Lance said nothing. Just flipped his cards. He looked up at Keith and raised his eyebrows, but he kept his expression neutral. Keith didn't look at him, eyes on the table.

"But there was something wrong with my blood. The doctors couldn't figure it out. They couldn't figure out why nothing seemed to be wrong with me. They kept saying I shouldn’t even be alive with blood like that. They did more tests."

"How old were you?"

"Eight." 

Lance hummed. His heart ached. That was too young. Any age was too young for a child to deal with the loss of a parent, but that number struck him as being particularly awful. Keith would have been old enough to understand what was happening, but too young to process it well. He would have understood what death was, he would have known what that meant, how final it was, but he wouldn't have been able to deal with his emotions effectively.

And it sounded like his caretakers hadn't helped.

"There were so many tests." Keith's voice was a low murmur. They flipped over their next cards. It was a war. Both of them had flipped a six. Keith stared through them, eyes glassy. He didn't move to continue the game. Lance sat quietly, holding his pile of cards in his hand.

"I couldn't tell you how many tests there were. It all blurs together. But I remember the needles. It hurt. Sometimes they weren't gentle. I tried to fight it, and they held me down."

Lance's hand clenched around his cards. He felt dizzy with rage.

"I didn't understand. I wanted my dad back, but I knew he wasn't coming. He wasn't coming for me. No one was going to save me. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore. I tried to run away, but they caught me and brought me back."

Lance cleared his throat. His chest was tight, his voice breathless. "When did it stop?"

Keith shook his head. "I don't know. I guess it must have stopped, eventually, but I don't know. Like I said, it all blurs together. I don't really...I don't really remember that year very well. Any of it."

 _Trauma,_ Lance thought fuzzily. Horrific, continued trauma forced on a child already reeling from grief and loss and the destruction of everything he knew. No wonder it had developed into a phobia.

"How did you get into Galaxy Garrison?" Lance asked. He tried for a light tone and didn't quite manage it. "A physical is required for that, too."

Keith shook his head. His hands were shaking. He set his cards down on the table and pressed his palms against his knees, forcing them still. "I always closed my eyes whenever they went for a needle stick. Turned my head, looked away. A lot of people do that, I guess. It wasn't a problem. I would be stressed, blood pressure too high, but they chalked it up to white coat syndrome. Which… Yeah. I guess that’s what it is."

Lance nodded numbly.

Keith rubbed his hands on his knees. "I didn't...I didn't expect that to happen today. It never has before. I guess it was because it was...so many of them. And..."

"And you were on edge thinking about what might have happened to Shiro."

Keith closed his eyes and nodded. His lips were pressed together, and his face was pale. His fingers curled against his palms, holding tight.

"Is it okay if I hug you?" Lance asked. 

Keith opened his eyes and looked at him, gaping. "What?"

"I want to hug you," Lance said slowly and plainly. "Would that be okay, or do you not want to be touched right now?"

Keith blinked. "I guess...I guess that would be okay."

Lance set his cards on the table, then stood up and moved around to where Keith sat. He spread his arms and gestured with both hands, impatient. Keith smiled tremulously, then rose to face him. Lance pulled him in, wrapped his arms around his back, pressed his chin on top of his shoulder, and held on tight.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," he murmured. "You didn't deserve that. No wonder you don't like needles now. I wouldn't, either."

Keith trembled. After a moment, he put his arms around Lance in return. He didn't squeeze, just held on loosely and tentatively. His posture was stiff, his cheek barely brushing the side of Lance's head. But he stood there and didn't try to get away, so Lance hugged him for a little while longer.

Before Keith pushed him off, Lance let go and stood back, giving him a sad smile. "I won't tell anyone. I know how hard it was for you to tell me. I promise, no one else would look down on you for this, but I get why you don't want to share. For now, we'll just have Pidge and Hunk search any labs, okay? You're the leader, so you can totally tell them to do that. No one will even question it."

Keith laughed shakily and swiped at his face, ridding himself of the sheen in his eyes. "Thank you, Lance," he said roughly. "I really appreciate everything you did today, both in the lab and here. I don't know if I said that before, but I should have. Thank you."

"No prob, Bob." Lance patted his shoulder, then looked down at the cards. "So do you wanna play an actual game now, or would you rather go train?"

"Training, please," Keith said fervently.

Lance laughed and swept a hand toward the door. "After you." 

Keith jumped away, a lightness in his steps as if the words he had spoken were a heavy burden, now lifted. Lance grinned and rushed to catch up. Nothing was okay. Nothing Keith had told him today was remotely okay. But they were going to deal with it. Together.


End file.
